Tales of a Spy

Chapter 4

A man was peacefully sipping tea and reading a potions journal in his study. Suddenly the Dark Mark burned, and he almost dropped his tea in surprise. So early. It hasn't even been 12 hours. Sighing, he prepared to go to his master.

Materializing in the Ballroom of Malfoy Manor, alone, his eyes searched for his master. They spoke desperation – as if crying out master! Master! Where you? They finally relaxed after spotting the master at the other end of the room. Dutifully bowing, he remained like that for a long time – time he did know, and time which had only brought pain upon him. Fear shuddered through the man when his master said:

"Get up, Serverus. Bow to naught but your true master." The man did as he was told. It was his duty to protect and serve his master.

"My Lord? You called me in early. And there is no one else but me." He asked - if dark can ever be - innocently.

"I have a very important task for you, my loyal servant. A task so delicate that it must be performed in utter secrecy, a task whose idea struck me just now. A task I know only you will be able to perform." Whilst speaking, his master had moved closer to him, and was staring into his eyes. He felt a nudge against his shields and gave way to an embrace of loyalty. The Dark Lord saw the same incidents, the same meeting but heard different thoughts. You will never be able to be as kind and generous as the Dark Lord, Albus. His master soon left his mind.

The fire of red eyes was absorbed by the black. Snake-like hands found his chin, tilting his face up and his master's face leaned in near. Breath brushed by his left ear – the breath of a corpse, while a voice shook his ear's eardrum. "I want you..." The spy shuddered.

"I want you to bring the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries."

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Albus Dumbledore was pacing around in his office, his brow furrowed and his mind deep in thought. Snape sat in a chair, studying the headmaster with cold eyes. "Well?" The double agent scoffed. "I take it as you won't be telling the rest of the Order about this? And they call me the betrayer." Albus paused in his pacing.

"I'm not telling them for a reason, Severus. Merlin knows what Sirius will do when he gets to know about this." The weary headmaster sighed.

"Really? Would it be like last time?" He said, sarcastically. Dumbledore looked at him wearily.

"Look, Severus, Sirius was not in his right mind that meeting. He was under a lot of stress and emotions, plus he had recently escaped Azkaban after spending twelve years in it. Everything with Peter and then facing Harry, who was so much like his best friend and taking care of him – he hadn't had time to process all of it. It just dawned on him that particular meeting...and I admit that my words were also a bit too harsh. Please, for Lily's sake, stop this petty childhood rivalry at once! You're both adults now – Sirius is childish because his loss happened all of a sudden. Please, spare him!" Dumbledore cried.

Begging me to spare your precious lions, Headmaster? You never noticed the snakes needed it more.

That silent anger again threatened to drown Severus. "It was never a petty childhood rivalry –" but before he could finish, Albus waved him off with his hand, a gesture to show that he was dismissed. Albus never listened. Unsurprisingly.

"You cannot bring him the prophecy." The headmaster stated blandly.

"Then what should be done? Be clear for once, old man!" Snape was losing his patience.

"I will leave that up to you. I am sure that you will find an excellent plan to slither out of this situation. You must. Now go – I have some planning to do. Care to take some sweets with you? Might lift your mood." Snape chose to ignore that foolish question. He stood up and was barely out of the office when the door quietly, but abruptly, shut behind him, nearly missing his long cloak from being stuck between the door and its frame. Sighing, he walked the way to the dungeons, a plan already brimming in his mind.

As soon as the edge of Snape's cloak and left the door's path, the headmaster magically shut the door and heaped himself upon his chair. He put his head in his hands in distress. There was no possible solution to this problem in sight, but as they say, with every problem a solution is also born. He could only think of one solution – to somehow fake the prophecy. He only hopes that Severus would be able to solve this one.

~~~

"An old man sits in his study sipping wine,

His face creased with distress lines;

For he had sacked his trouble,

To a man whose pain doesn't mumble."

Trying to ignore the singing of poet Sir Dolor's portrait and the truth has his words carried, Albus gulped down the rest of his wine and went to bed. He took a dreamless sleep potion and woke up in the morning feeling well-rested.

But alas, there is no rest for the wicked.

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After a bit of reckoning, he came to a conclusion. It was obvious that the headmaster thought of the solution being creating a false prophecy. But he had him out of office so...abruptly that he barely had time to think. But now, he has had that time with a plan. Taking a deep breath in, he knocked on the door after the gargoyle jumped aside.

Bonus if you can figure out from where does the name Dolor come.